Chapter 9
Molly
I’m sitting in my room on the bus, sketching and listening to music, wondering if any man will make me feel like Peter Centimo.
I got back from my third date with Miles, which many would describe as a perfect date night.
He showed up with flowers, took me to a nice restaurant, we had a great conversation, and walked around hand in hand after dinner, enjoying an ice cream in the park, when he leaned in for a kiss.
At the last moment, I turned my head, his lips pressing softly against my cheek instead.
I may have been trying to fool myself into believing that I could simply move on from Peter to the next man, and all my feelings for him would disappear.
But as time went by in Miles’s presence, even when he’s been nothing but the perfect gentleman, the spark never appeared.
I didn’t feel alive and wanted as I do in someone else’s presence.
I simply couldn’t kiss him.
It felt so wrong.
Which is why I had to give him the “it’s not you, it’s me” speech, which felt awful considering he is a great guy.
It wouldn’t be fair to string him along any more than I’ve already done. Using him to try to get over my attraction to another man.
He took it like a champ. Drove me back and gave me a friendly hug goodbye.
It’s been over a week since my kiss with Peter, and I find myself just as obsessed as I was last week.
I look down at my sketchpad, realising I’ve drawn one of his tattoos, one of the patterns that sneaks up from his collar and climbs his throat.
I haven’t seen the whole thing, but I’ve drawn the parts I do know.
It’s like he’s been imprinted into my brain.
And I can’t seem to get him out.
I close my book, groaning as I lie down in bed.
I’ll get over him.
In the meantime, I’ll stay away from men entirely. At least until I find another one who awakens these feelings inside me.
～
I’m out for lunch with Jessica, and she has her reporter face on, aimed at me.
I’m in for an interrogation, and something tells me it has to do with Peter.
So far, I’ve been able to keep our kiss to myself, but part of me is dying to tell her.
“I know there’s something you’re not telling me, Molly,” Jessica says, swirling some pasta onto her fork before taking a bite.
I sigh, contemplating my options.
It’s only a matter of time before I break.
“Promise not to judge me, okay?” I ask her, and Jessica simply shakes her head at me, the idea of ever judging me seemingly being absurd to her.
She’s been through her own share of man drama, so I guess she can relate to the complicated feelings Peter stirs up in me.
“So, I might have been keeping a little secret about Peter,” I start, and Jessica’s eyes widen.
She sits up in her seat, ready for the latest scoop about the bad boy. “Shut up! I fucking knew that there was something between you two!”
I roll my eyes at her, chuckling as she gets excited to hear my story.
I tell her about the second part of my date from hell with Jeremy, which turned out to be the most satisfying evening in a while.
The club and his promise, and how he sought me out and kissed me like there was no tomorrow only to turn around and say it was nothing.
I tell her about my gut feeling, or it could just be my pride trying to soothe itself, that there is more to this than a simple rejection.
“I don’t know, Molly. Men can be confusing sometimes, but it sounds like your chemistry is burning bright?”
I let out a long breath. “Yeah, it burns a little too well. Making me immune to other men, it seems.”
That makes Jessica chuckle, and I tell her about the perfect gentleman, Miles, and how he did everything by the book.
I should have been ecstatic about him.
But no.
He doesn’t get my heart racing like Peter.
When I’ve got it all off my chest, Jessica is the best support I could have asked for, telling me that either Peter will have to get his head out of his ass or I’ll eventually get over this attraction, and I’ll find someone else.
Even if I’m not at that point yet, I’m certain I’ll get there in time.
In the meantime, I’ll focus on myself.
～
I’m browsing the stores, looking for a dress for a gala I’ll attend with my family this weekend.
We have two weeks off, but the Formula 1 world never takes a break. It may not be a racing weekend, but some drivers will attend the fundraiser.
It’s just a reason for the people on top to dress up and try to impress each other, but I don’t mind.
I haven’t seen much of Dad after he took over Audi, so it will be nice to spend some time with him and my mom.
I called my dad and congratulated him on their win last weekend. The first win for Audi since he took over.
Peter was magnificent.
No one stood a chance against him.
Maybe Luke would have had a shot if he hadn’t endured technical issues, but no one else was in Peter’s league.
He was aggressive out on track, taking the chances that some drivers don’t dare. Seeing the openings that may be on edge, but if you make it, the reward will be all the bigger.
He was incredible, and even though I’m still mad at him for dismissing me so easily, I’m also proud of him for delivering such a strong performance.
I can be proud of him and mad at him simultaneously.
I find a striking light yellow satin gown with a beautiful neckline that folds at the top and will likely be tight at the bust before it flows out against the body.
Bringing it with me into the changing room, I call up Jessica when I’m all dressed.
“What do you think?” I ask her, showing her the dress from various angles in the mirror.
“I wish I had your skin, Molly. You look stunning in every colour, but this one is a winner.”
The dress feels like the one for the gala.
It’s sophisticated and classy, whilst also being very womanly.
“Yeah, I think this is the one.”
～
I’m headed to Dad’s office for lunch; the paddock is quiet as it’s still more than a week until any racing will happen.
Several on our team decided to go home for the week, but since Dad is here and working, I decided to stay and spend some quality time with him. It would be a lot of travelling back and forth as we’re also attending the gala.
When I pass the coffee stand, I decide to bring us a cup and make my way over.
“Two coffees with two pumps of vanilla.”
Those sparks that never made an appearance around Miles? Those are crackling intensely as Peter comes up to stand beside me.
We’re the only people here, which only heightens my reaction to seeing him for the first time since our kiss.
“And a regular black coffee,” I add to the barista, not bothering to argue with Peter’s interference in my coffee order.
It may not be the most complicated one, but he still remembered and even ordered one for himself.
As I didn’t expect him to show up, I’m once again not quick enough with getting my wallet out, and he pays for the order.
The barista turns to make our order, and I finally cave and turn to him.
Good lord.
He looks ravishing.
He’s wearing black jeans and a white T-shirt, and I realise I rarely see him in anything other than black clothes.
Always repping the bad boy image.
Right now, though, he looks slightly more laid back, and I can’t lie…
I’m kind of loving it.
His tattoos are visible down his left arm, and I feel tempted to bring out my phone to snap a picture.
They’re gorgeous. A stunning piece of art. I just know I won’t be able to resist drawing them in my sketch book later.
Oh well, no one will know.
“No fancy coffee date today?” he drawls, and my brows draw together in confusion.
Then I realise.
My first date with Miles.
We were drinking coffee, and Peter must have seen.
“Keeping tabs on me?” I ask, enjoying the fact that even if he dismissed me so easily after our kiss, he seems to have been watching.
And caring.
“Nah, it’s not that serious,” he says, and I feel my anger rising.
“Nothing ever is with you,” I fire back, angry at myself for reacting to him so easily.
Seems like he’s still thinking the same thing as the last time I saw him.
That we are nothing.
It’s not serious.
It stings, nevertheless.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He’s getting angry himself, but fucking hell, he started this.
“You’re not serious about anything. Must be rather sad if you ask me,” I tell him, shrugging for good measure, like I’m lecturing a freaking child.
Then I grab the two coffees and turn on my heel, done with him and this conversation. I didn’t expect a marriage proposal after our kiss. But I did expect him to act like an adult.
He’s not done, though, and he follows me before he stands in my way. “I’m very serious about a lot of things, racing, for instance. Which you would have known if you actually paid attention.”
The nerve of this man.
If I was angry before, I’m fucking furious now.
How dare he come here and tell me that I don’t know shit about racing?
I spent the whole of Sunday night editing montages of him and his victory.
“I can’t believe you. This has nothing to do with racing, and you know it,” I scoff before I continue. “If you’re not man enough to just tell me that you regretted kissing me, then I guess you’re right, and I don’t know you at all.”
I mean, sure, having someone tell me that they regret kissing me would have stung, but it would have been better than him saying it was nothing and then disappearing.
Peter gets a haunted look on his face, a lot like the one he had when I first ran into him weeks ago. Also, back then, he told me I didn’t know anything.
He breathes hard, and right now, he seems to be fighting his own battle as he swallows, dragging a hand through his hair before looking back at me.
“I could never regret something so good, but I can’t be what you deserve.” His tone is calmer now, the storm still raging in his eyes.
Men and their inability to commit.
Again, I didn’t expect him to pop the big question. But we could have kept it casual. Considering the way he makes me feel, I would probably take him up on any offer, even a strictly sexual relationship, to burn out this chemistry.
To him, though, that doesn’t even seem to be an option, which leaves me confused.
Am I the only one here who’s experiencing the connection between us?
“Okay then. I’ll guess we’re done with this talk.”
I step past him, feeling devastated and disappointed.
I guess a part of me was hoping he would explain his dismissal of us.
Or that he would regret it when some time went by.
But no, he’s decided that he can’t be what I deserve.
Which is probably meant as a compliment from a guy like him, but it only adds to the hollow feeling inside me.
I should probably be happy that he’s put an end to this even before it began.
Hanging around with the leading driver in my dad’s new team isn’t the best idea. Maybe that’s why it felt so good. Having someone who is a little forbidden.
Even though I never really had Peter.
I reach my father’s office and take a deep breath, trying to let go of my anger before I meet up with him.
He can always tell when something is off, and I’d rather not have him question me over our lunch. I just want to enjoy it and not think about Peter Centimo.
I make my way inside, and he stands from his chair, going in for a hug as soon as I’ve set down our coffees.
“Moll doll. I’ve missed you. I thought I would see you more now that we’re working together.”
Working together.
That’s one way to put it.
He owns an F1 team. I edit clips and montages broadcast on Star News.
“I’ve missed you, too. But it seems like you’ve been getting some rather good results already,” I tell him, hinting back to Audi’s win last weekend.
The team seems to be doing better, and even though I know it’s not just because of my dad, I’m sure his work ethic is great for the team.
He knows how to lead, but without being an overbearing boss who makes people feel small.
“Thank you. But that was all Peter.”
At the mention of his name, I feel that pricking sensation again.
How long will this continue?
My father speaks of Peter with a degree of familiarity, and I find myself wondering how well they know each other.
Technically my dad is his boss, so they must have some form of relationship.
My curiosity is spiked, and I don’t think I’ll get over it, meaning I’ll have to swallow my pride, and I ask him how well he knows Peter.
Dad arranges our Thai food before answering.
“I must say, he’s surprised me in a good way. Everyone told me how unserious and rude he was when I got here, but you know me, I like to find out for myself. He’s proven himself to be quite different from how many portray him.”
He’s known for being a good judge of character, and I don’t know if I should feel pleased or dreadful that he seems to be seeing layers to Peter that others haven’t.
It aligns with my own impression of him, even though he’s committed to not letting me in and shutting me out.
Maybe he’s different with my father.
“How so?” I ask, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.
It’s hard considering this is the same man I was twisting my tongue with just a week ago, but my curiosity is gnawing at me.
“He works hard, and we’ve met several times to discuss what the team needs. He’s committed and driven, which is the exact opposite of what everyone on his so-called team is telling me. Makes me question their character.”
This is interesting.
I didn’t know they had met continually.
And I realise, Peter may not know that this is my father.
He doesn’t strike me as the type who reads all the latest paddock gossip, so he probably didn’t hear about my little name reveal a few weeks ago.
Luckily, it blew over quickly, and everyone moved on to the next juicy story in the paddock.
Romantic flings and stories seem to be the top-tier content at the moment.
My dad seems oblivious to my interest in Peter, and, unfortunately for me, he changes the subject before I can dig any deeper into his view on Peter Centimo.
We talk about my work and how we’re doing at Star News.
Even though my dad would like to hire me onto the Audi content team himself, he respects my wish to make it on my own.
I’d rather not have my dad paying my salary.
We agree to meet up before the gala tomorrow night, which both of my parents will attend. I was hoping Jessica was going as well, but she’s off with Luke and his family as they travel to visit them.
Oh well, at least I have my parents.